


When Everything's Made to be Broken

by SeptemberEndings



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Mentions of suicide attempt, Mentions/Implications of Self-Harm, general sadness, hints of depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-05
Updated: 2015-04-05
Packaged: 2018-03-21 08:16:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3684888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeptemberEndings/pseuds/SeptemberEndings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a room that Ashton goes into whenever he's feeling bad.</p><p>It's not an actual room, of course. It's in his head.</p><p>*Or, where Ashton and Luke are more than a little broken and all Ashton wants is for Luke to be okay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When Everything's Made to be Broken

**Author's Note:**

> Right, this is kinda sad. I don't know what I was thinking??? Happy Easter I guess???

There's a room that Ashton goes into whenever he's feeling bad.

It's not an actual room, of course. It's in his head. It's kind of cozy, too--painted a soft, muted yellow, and soundproofed perfectly. A drum kit sits at the back of the room, perfectly centered. Off to the side,  guitar that's always perfectly tuned, leaned against a pretty mahogany piano. His favorite saxophone is sat in its velvet case on the bench, polished and shiny and perfect. All along the left wall every book Ashton could ever want is stacked up to the ceiling in the oak bookcase his mother was always cleaning when he was a kid.

He only goes in when he's feeling really poorly, when there's a pounding in his head that never really fades and his wrists are itching terribly. Ashton remembers bleeding out in this room, back when it wasn't good enough to protect him. He still has the thick, jagged scar that twisted all the way up his arm, covered by arm bands and heavy makeup. His band members know about it, obviously, but they've never asked about it. He knows they're probably too scared to.

But the room had always worked for him since that day, even if there's a bloodstain in the dead center that Ashton couldn't ever clean all the way out. He's entered it less and less throughout the years, the fame and music and friends catching up and engulfing him in happy, the type that little kids get whenever they get an extra scoop of ice cream. The room's gotten dusty and old over the years, and even though Ashton's looked into it in passing, he's never had to enter it.

***

And then, the hashtag.

Ashton knew there was a reason why he hated the internet.

It was hidden away from him, kept out of sight at first. Calum always needed his help coincidentally, and Michael wanted his opinion on a certain riff and oh, you were about to go on Twitter? Wait, Luke needs you to go grocery shopping with him--

 

But they can't keep it from him forever, and he's scrolling mindlessly through his phone when suddenly he stiffens and the rest of the band exchanges these _looks._

_#keepcuttingashtonyouretrash_

Worldwide. Right.

"How long has this been trending?" Ashton asked, and his voice sounds strange even to his own ears.

"They're wrong, Ash," Calum said quietly, softly. Like he was talking someone off a suicide ledge. "They're so, so wrong."

"I'm not...I'm not delicate. You shouldn't have kept this from me," Ashton tried to yell, but it came out like a whisper. It still reverberated through the room and cut through everyone's ears, though. "I...you should have told me."

"Ash," Luke said, and he's sitting next to Ashton all of a sudden. Luke grips Ashton's wrists firmly, and only then does Ashton realize that he'd been scratching at them. "These people are sick. They can't call themselves fans, and just because they got something trending on Twitter means nothing. They don't understand a single goddamned thing."

Luke doesn't cuss. He doesn't. It's a rule of thumb.

But Luke also doesn't stare and he's staring at Ashton's ugly scar that throbs and writhes around his arm, demanding attention. Ashton feels lightheaded. "I think...I'm going to my bunk for a few," Ashton said.

"But--" Michael started, but Ashton's already gone, in his happy place.

The yellow's a lot more faded and there's dust covering every available surface. The only thing that's striking about the room is the scarlet in the middle of the floor. If Ashton stares at it too long, he can feel his entire body start to hum.

So, instead, Ashton walks over to the piano, moving the saxophone and its case onto the floor. He plucks at the piano keys absentmindedly, admiring the dust that sticks to his fingers as he plays.

He pretends that the itching in his wrists is completely normal.

***

Ashton's on top of the world when he finds Luke.

He really wasn't meant to, but Luke's not good at locking things and Ashton has a terrible habit of not knocking before entering.

He sees the cuts up and down both of his arms and the tears drying on Luke's face and knows that now is probably a bad time to take a shower.

He clambers into the scalding water in full clothes, staring at the blood-infused water that slops over the side a bit.

Luke's quiet and Ashton's quiet and then Luke asked, "Who found you?"

"Lauren," Ashton replied, smoothly and with no hitches in his voice. "That time, I meant to do it. That's how I got the scar." 

"Was it worth it?" Luke asked, and it's silent and so Luke that it rips Ashton's heart in half.

"I don't know. I have a fear of the unknown. Probably better for me. I didn't have to spend my last few minutes in fear." 

Luke snorts. "Didn't expect honesty."

Ashton gives him a wry look. "When you're like us, all you want is honesty."

Luke nods. "Should I stop?"

"Do you want to?"

"Should I?"

Ashton taps his two fingers on the side of the tub. "I'd say so. I love you. Mikey loves you. Cal loves you. It'd hurt to find you dying one day."

Luke sighs and slumps forward, into Ashton. Ashton sucks in a deep breath. "C'mon, penguin. We need to get you cleaned up."

That night, with Luke cuddled into Ashton's chest snoring lightly, Ashton enters his happy room. There, in the middle of the annoyingly bright room, Luke is standing there with bare wrists covered in nothing but satiny soft skin and the biggest smile possible on his face.

***

"Do you have any regrets?"

Ashton's drunk on cheap wine coolers and the success of last night's concert, and he's sitting with Michael on the hill, a threadbare blanket spread underneath them and the night sky spread above them. Luke's with Calum, and Calum's texting Ashton to let him know that Luke's completely fine and hasn't gone off anywhere to be alone.

Ashton's phone lights up with another text message from Calum, but he doesn't check it this time, just knocks back another wine cooler. Easily, Ashton says, "Trying to kill myself, probably."

Michael freezes just the tiniest bit, mostly because he's not as drunk as Ashton. Ashton laughs a bit at Michael's face. "It's okay, Mikey. I'm okay now."

Michael frowned. "Are you?" he asked, and it's just a wisp of what Michael probably wanted to say.

The laugh falls away from Ashton's mouth. "Well, I gotta be, don't I? And I have you three losers," he says, but it's more somber this time, less slurred. Ashton wants to drink another wine cooler just to forget the taste of this conversation.

"'s not enough for Lukey," Michael says, and he sounds so sad that Ashton noses his way into Michael's arms instinctively.

"It will be," Ashton promises. "He hasn't found his way yet."

"What if he won't?" Michael asks.

"He will," Ashton promises again. "He has to."

Michael sighs and takes a big gulp of alcohol. "I wish I were the stars," he says quietly. "Just. To get away from here and this sometimes. Even the freest animal has a cage around it. It just doesn't know."

When Ashton goes into his happy room, the ceiling is painted with tiny, silver stars while Luke kisses every inch of Ashton.

***

They're at a concert and Ashton just thinks  _fuck it._

They're in a middle of a song, too, one of their cheesier generic ones, and Ashton just throws down his drumsticks and hops out of his seat.

Luke and Calum and Michael stop playing, stare at him with wide unseeing eyes. They don't know what he's doing, and he doesn't know either, but he walks very calmly over to Luke and kisses the living daylights out of that boy.

Luke's surprised, obviously, but his grip on his guitar loosens and he's kissing Ashton back with soft, needy lips.

The whole world goes out of focus and comes sharply back in in one go, and Ashton recognizes that this probably wasn't the best way to go about it but he was so, so tired of it all.

When Ashton pulls back the whole stadium bursts out screaming but Ashton hears none of it. He only hears Luke's smile, the first genuine one in who knows how long. 

The itching in Ashton's wrists lessens. Ashton knows that it's probably not much, but the fact is that it's something and he feels like that kid who got the extra scoop again.

It's something, and that's all Ashton needs.

When Ashton passes by his happy room the next time, the light is turned off and the blinds are pulled down. Ashton smiles and exits his head because Luke's waiting for him with open arms.


End file.
